Schisms
by Paradoxically
Summary: In 2017, Ginny and Draco are finding that their respective marriages are crumbling, and the shadows of war are never all that far behind. But is there hope for redemption?


Schisms

Chapter One: Fractures

_August 2017_

The sensation of hair, drifting gently over the nape of his neck, woke him from a deep dream—the sensation was so innocuous, terrible in its innocence, but he jolted awake, heart racing and his wand arm flinging over his chest, ready to defend. Adrenaline pulled his spine straight while nausea settled in the depths of his stomach; his breath came fast and heavy. For a moment, he could _swear_ he had been back on his knees, Voldemort's wand drawing a thin line over his unprotected neck…

Too late (and only once Astoria had yelped indignantly and fallen off the bed) had he realized where he was—_home_, safe in the Manor, with his wife glaring up at him from the floor, bed sheet clutched protectively to her chest. Voldemort had been dead and gone, at Potter's hand, and for not quite two decades now at that. There was nothing to fear, except the shadows and suspicions in his own mind.

This wasn't even the first time that he'd awoken in such a manner. As the adrenaline began to fade, and his hands began to shake, Astoria stood and sighed. "The Dreamless Draughts? They aren't helping anything, are they?"

He shook his head. How, exactly, to explain to his wife that the problem wasn't in the dreaming, but in the waking?

* * *

><p>"Harry."<p>

Ginny rolled her eyes and tried again.

"_Harry."_

She huffed out a weary sigh. And tried yet again.

"There's a basilisk in the garden, Harry, and Lily wants to know if she can keep it as a pet."

Harry shuffled the parchments in hand, wrinkles forming between his heavy black brows and muttered, "Hmm, that's fine, tell Lils to play nice."

Ginny only wished she could say that she was in disbelief—in actuality, this was an all too common occurrence in the Potter household. She opened her mouth, with a smart retort on her tongue, but James breezed past at that very moment, his signature guilty look written across his face, so she reached out and snagged the young man by the collar. Harry didn't even look up as his eldest child spluttered declarations of innocence: "Mum, seriously, I'm not doing _anything_, promise!"

Ginny merely raised one eyebrow, long accustomed to James' professions of innocence. His eyes darted quickly between his parents, lingering on his father as Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and watched them with a slight grin on his face before ducking his head and returning his attention back to the parchments. He had complete and utter faith that Ginny had this handled. As always. James tugged down the hem of his shirt nervously, hoping desperately that the edge of the Marauder's Map wasn't peeking above the waistband of his trousers—this year just wouldn't be any fun if Mum caught him with it now. But his agitated movements and the protruding bit of parchment had already caught Ginny's eyes. Her years training her keen sight for Quidditch hadn't been for naught, she mused. "_Outside_, young man, right this instant. And you _will_ wait on the back porch and _not move a muscle_, understood? Your father has some important business to attend to and _you will not disturb him_," Ginny hissed, releasing James' collar. And not for the first time, James was struck with the realization that his lean little mother was downright scary—Ginny herself was realizing that she had opened her mouth, and _her_ _mother_ had come out... She collapsed into her chair at the dining room table and laid her head in her hands with a moan. Harry finally laid down his parchments, reaching across the table to pat her on the head with a chuckle. "You've got this Gin, he'll listen to you. Let me know how it turns out, alright? I'll just get out of your way, and I've got to get to the office anyway, but I'll be back in time for dinner," he reassured, planting a soft kiss on the crown of her head. Ginny "mmphed" her farewell, never picking up her head until she heard the soft _crack_ of Harry Apparating away. When she finally did raise her head, one silvery tear tracked its way down her cheek, but she scrubbed it away viciously. This wasn't the worst thing that had happened to her, after all. It was just… well, this wasn't the first time she was left to take care of it all on her own, nor would it be the last.

When she walked onto the back porch, shoulders squared and head held high, James knew there was something wrong, and that it had very little to do with the seemingly blank bit of parchment he had pulled out of his waistband while he sat contritely on the back porch. He recognized the look from old photos—there had been one of his Mum and Dad, with Hermione and Ron in the background, with them all looking very much like Mum did now. He'd been told that it was taken some weeks or months after the Final Battle at Hogwarts, but they had all looked like they were still preparing for war, and it was eerie to see the same expression on her face now. James curled the Marauders Map between his hands and fixated his gaze on the toes of his shoes, waiting for his mother's wrath to fall upon his head.

To his surprise, Ginny only sighed gustily and dropped to sit on the steps next to him. "You know, James, you really could have just asked for the map," she whispered, settling her fingers into his loose curls. He turned his wide brown eyes, so very much like Ginny's own, on her in disbelief, mouth hanging open. Ginny merely smiled at him, shaking her head. "You look so very much like your father when you do that," she sighed, smoothing his unruly hair, "and they'll tell you that you take very much after your grandfather and Sirius Black, but, truly, I see so very much of Fred and George, and all of my brothers really, in you. I only wish… well, it's not important." And here her eyes turned fierce : "But if I _ever _catch you stealing a _single thing_ ever again, then I will hang you by your toes in a pit of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts—do you understand me?"

James gulped loudly, reminded of why, exactly, no one ever crossed his mother twice. "Y-yes. S-so.. I, uh, I'll p-put the m-map back where I f-found it then…" he began to stutter, until Ginny held up a hand to stop him. "No, James, you will keep that map, but on two conditions. The first is that we're never going to tell your father about this, and the second is that you will use it to keep an eye on your brother. I have a feeling he might need an extra pair of eyes on him. Just get him through his first year . Do we have an understanding?" Ginny's clear eyes pinned James under her heavy gaze—there was no way to wiggle out of this, so he nodded fervently. Ginny pulled him into a tight hug, planting a kiss on his forehead and a soft, "That's my boy."

* * *

><p>AN: So... first time writing for this fandom. Here's hoping I didn't mess it up already. And that I, uh, actually follow through and finish, since I'm great at starting things I don't ever finish. Care to share your thoughts?


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